The snow has fallen
by Bexs205
Summary: Sansa is sent by Baelish to the wall in part of his scheme but what takes place there could change the entire realm. Note: text set in a dream placed in [...].
1. Chapter 1

With her blue hooded cape flapping around her ankles and her head covered so thoughroughly that she could barely see through the tight gap she held, Sansa pushed her way through the cold heavy snow. Her boots were filled with the slush of melted ice and the numbness had inevitably turned to pain. The horses ploded on behind them but Ser Granten had warned that should the snow get much deeper the mares would surely perish and if the temperatures became any lower perhaps they themselves would too.

Even with her eyelashes dusted with snowflakes and her hips sore from striding, Sansa found warmth in the hope and thoughts of reuniting with Jon. She would tell him of all her struggles; Joffrey, Cercei, her marriage to the imp and everything else. He would comfort her and make her feel welcome at Castle Black. They would greive over the loss of their family together and grow closer for it. Sansa and Jon were never the closest of the Stark siblings. Jon and Arya were near inseperable and Bran and Rickon were feircely fond of each other also. Sansa mostly kept herself to herself but after all she had endured and after what loss they shared, Sansa knew that she and Jon could build a relashionship the Gods would smile upon.

"I wouldnt think it much further now m'lady. through those trees and over the hill in the distance there then I am sure the wall will give it away!" One of the squires yelled to her over the deafening sounds of swirling wind and the ringing of her own ears. When Lord Baelish had sent her to her bastard brother on the wall with a small party of two squires, a handmaiden and two knights to acompany her, Sansa thought the Gods had afflicted him with madness. She was his ultimate power peice, Cousin Robyn was still young and sickly and after what had happened to Aunt Lysa, she was his only course of action. It was only when she heard of his true plans that she realized why he had taken 'knowledge is power' for his house words. Sansa was to go to the wall to enlist the men of the nights watch in Baelish's subtle game for the throne. Of course they could not swear fealty to any one house and could not fight for one or another, they could still create the illusion of a show of strength to enemies afar.

"It will be getting dark soon my lady, perhaps we should rest for the night beneath the trees, if we rise early enough we could arrive fresh at The Black and in time to break our fast." Ser Granten tried to persuade her.

"We will not stop Ser, I fully intend to meet with my brother this night. The snow is finer beneath the tree cover, if we water the horses now we can ride through the forest to the opening and then dismount. The final stretch of our journey wont be as long as you think, I asure you." Sansa replied with authority.

The skies had been black for many hours when the flickering flames from the torches across the wall began to draw near. Only a few short hours remained before the day would break. As Sansa and her companions approched the main gate of Castle Black, they were haulted by the shouts of the guardsman from his tower. Demanding they identify themselves and state their business.

"You have the honour of adressing the Lady Sansa of house Stark of Winterfell and I am Ser Granten of house Cahill, our business is with Lord Commander Mormont. Inform him of our arrival and make haste. We are cold, tired and hungry so should there be a warm bed and perhaps some bread and fish waiting for us inside Im sure a gold dragon would find its way into your pocket. Now go!" Ser Granten called to the guard. A mere boy with a pocked face and hair so greasy it clung to his face like seaweed to a rock. The boy appeared dazed and replied.

"The Lord Commander is dead Ser, has been since the wildlings came. Jon Snow has taken command of the watch for now, until Lord Mormont's position can be properly filled."

Sansa wasnt sure what shocked her more, the thought of wildlings making it over the wall or her brother Jon comanding the nights watch. She looked to Ser Granten in question, though he himself was confused and silent.

"Then... Then fetch me Jon Snow and hurry up about it boy!" He finally spat. The boy ran off and before long the gates opened, permitting them entry to the fabled Castle Black.

Sansa had heard many tales of the wall and of Castle Black. It was known to be a dark, cold and unforgiving place. Filled with theives and rapers. Her expectations were not dissapointed. The stench of unwashed men and horse manure filled the air, Sansa was so cold she could barely move and the bedchamber she had been given was so small that she and her handmaiden filled it easily.

She could hear the nights watchmen passing by her door on their way to the dining hall to break their fast. It was then that Sansa realised how hungry she was. She decided that filling her belly would aid her in getting some sleep later in the morning, so she changed out of her soaked dirty clothes, bathed and changed into a fresh gown.

Once Sansa was in the dining hall she sat with Ser Granten and his squire and waited for Jon as they ate stale bread and fish. A fair time had passed before Ser Granten began to grow impatient.

"You there, boy!" He called to the young man from the guard who was now sat eating his fill. "Where is Jon Snow? Have you called for him?" He asked sternly.

The boy shifted awkwardly in his seat and merely glanced at Ser Granten as he spoke.

"Y..yes m'lord but..."

"But what boy? Find your voice for the sake of the seven!" Ser Granten yelled.

"J..Jon Snow is out beyond the wall m'lord, he may not return for a few days at least." The boy finally admitted meekly.

"What?! And when did you plan to tell me this?!" He raged.

The boy only glared at Ser Granten and after the scene he'd created, the rest of the dining hall were glaring at them too, Sansa realised. Poor Ser Granten had never really wanted to make this trip, he begged Lord Baelish to find a younger more worldly knight to escort her but Littlefinger was determined and all his plans had to be executed to the finest degree. Now the aging knight's temper was begining to fray and from the looks on the faces of the other men in the room, now was not the time nor the place.

"This is a disgrace!" He shouted as he slammed his tankard down on the table, wine spilling up over the edges and over his food. "What kind of home for simpletons has Mormont been running here?! How can you defend the wall for the realm if you have no leader and all the communication skills of wet trouts?!" Ser Granten continued. Sansa could see that some of the men were getting agitated and placing their hands on their swords. She took hold of the knights elbow gently and whispered for him to sit down. It was too late, one of the men shot out of his seat and lunged at Ser Granten, the man held his sword to Ser Granten's throat side on and pushed his face forward so they were almost nose to nose.

"Listen old man, you might think you're a fancy knight whos better than we are but you haven't seen half of the things we have up here lately." The man spat.

"So if Snow needs to go beyond the wall, you'll sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up and wait for him. Is that understood?" He asked. Ser Granten became very quiet and simply nodded in acceptance.

"Good because these men have been through enough and if you disturb them when they are trying to eat a bit of food again I'll draw this sword from your belly to your brains, got it?" Ser Granten nodded again. The man returned to his table and continued his breakfast as if nothing had happened, before long the rest of the room had returned to normal as well. Ser Granten did not speak again for the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa tossed and turned in the uncomfortable bed that she of course wasn't used to. She was in and out of sleep, in that strange place between waking and slumber, where nothing was real yet everything was vivid. She fell into the darkness just a little further and began to dream.

[ The fire blazed hot and bright against the black night's sky. Sansa was vaguely aware of chanting around her. Men and women dressed all in red were gathered around the fire, shouting "R'hllor" and looking at her expectantly. Jon was calling to her from somewhere in the distance, "Do it Sansa! Hurry! Do it now!" He cried but Sansa didn't know what it was she was supposed to be doing.

Strange creatures battled in the background. Large, winged creatures that breathed even more life into the fire. Sansa knew them from legend. White soldiers, they looked like men but their eyes were bluer than blue should be and the air around them steamed in response to the extreme cold of their bodies, could they really be the demons old nan told her stories about? Their faces were hideous. A beautiful woman sat proud on the back of the largest fire breather, her hair almost silver and a stunning blue gown flowing behind her as she flew. Sansa felt someone take hold of her hand, a woman in a red gown and vibrant red hair, she smiled at Sansa reasuringly yet Sansa did not trust her fully.

Suddenly the heat started to grow, she felt as if the fire was licking at her skin and pulling the air from her lungs. It was uncomfortable at first, then painful, then excruciating. Sansa screamed.]

She kicked and beat the sheets of her bed, screaming into the otherwise silent night. Tears streamed down her face and she shook uncontrolably. Finally the door blew open and her handmaiden came running into the room.

"What is it m'lady? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" The young woman asked, dazed from being woken but concerned non the less.

The woman grabbed Sansa by the shoulders and glared into her eyes. Sansa stared back and eventually found her grip on reality.

"No" she sniffed. "No, Im not hurt. Im sorry, I had a bad dream, thats all." Sansa reasured her.

"Are you quite sure m'lady, can I do anything for you?" The puzzled girl probed.

"No, Im quite sure, thank you but please go back to bed. I am sorry I woke you." Sansa apologised.

"It is no trouble m'lady, goodnight m'lady." Just like that the girl was gone.

In the cold light of day Sansa felt foolish for being so overcome by a silly dream. After dressing and breaking fast she decided to go for a walk around the training yard and then maybe explore the wall if she felt brave enough.

As she sat on a wooden crate watching three of the nights watchmen darting about the yard in attack and defence she heard a heavy panting down by her side. She looked down to find a beautiful long haired, snow white Direwolf.

"Ghost!" Sansa yelled, falling to her knees and holding the Direwolf tight in an embrace. If Ghost was here then Jon couldn't be far behind she thought, she looked about but realised he must still be on the other side of the wall but not too far away.

At that moment Sansa heard shouting at the gates. She went to investigate, taking Ghost with her.

There was a party of strangers entering. A small girl with an afliction to her face and a plain looking woman whom Sansa could only assume was the girls mother. As the two came closer, Sansa smiled at them, happy to have some new female company but then a third woman entered. Ghost growled and stood in defense of Sansa. The world seemed to slow and Sansa's heart sank in her chest. The third woman wore a blood red gown, she removed her hood to reveal waves and waves of deep red hair. It was the woman from her dream. She approached Sansa and greated her.

"It is good to meet you Lady Sansa, My name is Melisandre and this is Lady Selyse and her daughter Shireen." Sansa was mute. She didn't know how to react. She nodded as politely as she could, turned and left.


	3. Chapter 3

Sansa locked herself away in her room for the entire afternoon. Slipping between the worlds of sanity and insanity, debating which of the two she belonged in. She knew the red woman, she was sure of it. Her dream had been so vivid that it was impossible to ignore but could she really say that she knew a woman before she had any more than met her? All Sansa knew for sure was that when she looked at the Lady Melisandre, all she felt were those same flames fanning up at her again, consuming her.

After much consideration and deliberation, Sansa decided that the only way to settle her concerns were to talk to the Lady. See for herself once and for all if she really was the woman from her dream and if she was even as bad as Sansa thought. The dream was rather vague now Sansa thought about it, perhaps she had subconsciously interpreted it wrong. Perhaps this stranger was not here to kill her or anything prophetic of the sort.

That evening at supper, Sansa left Ser Granten and the rest of her party at their table and made her way over to sit by the Ladies Selyse, Shireen and Melisandre.

"Good evening." Sansa said timidly. "I came to apologise for receiving you so coldly this morning. I'm not quite sure what came over me, I only hope you can forgive me." Sansa continued, the embodiment of politeness.

Lady Selyse and little Shireen looked to Lady Melisandre expectantly. The woman knew this and took the lead.

"There is nothing to forgive my Lady, please, break bread with us." She offered.

Sansa obliged and sat by Melisandre. The four of them were very quiet for a while as they placed food on their plate and began to eat. Sansa had gotten very good at reading the language of the body during her time in King's Landing and she could see the relationships between the three females as she watched them.

Lady Selyse would watch Melisandre constantly, she seemed to admire her in a platonic yet passionate sort of way. She remained quiet always if Melisandre wished to speak and only spoke of things that Melisandre wished to speak about. In a word she was her lap dog.

Poor little Shireen often tried to involve herself in conversation but her Mother quieted her every time. She would look to her Mother with love and longing in her eyes yet her Mother did not appear to reciprocate, even once. The young girl seemed unconcerned by the strange scale on her face and would smile brightly despite it, her mother however made reference to it more than once or twice with disdain. This saddened Sansa greatly. Why would the Gods be so cruel as to take her loving, caring Mother away from her yet leave this wretched woman here to torture this innocent girl? But then the Gods were always cruel, she had learned that the hard way.

Lady Melisandre was the epitome of womanhood. Her figure was mesmerising. Her full breasts rounded beautifully, her waist was slender and her hips admiringly ready for child bearing. Her long legs seemed to go on for miles and her crimson red hair cascaded wonderfully down her back. She had a confidence that Sansa had never seen before. The Knights she had seen in Joust were confident and brave but Melisandre's confidence was something else altogether. It shone from her, encompassing her and while Sansa admired it, it didn't make her feel anymore comfortable around her, in fact quite the opposite. It frightened her. Surely anyone who was so carelessly sure of themselves were not to be trifled with.

"I understand you are sister to Jon Snow Sansa, is that right?" Melisandre enquired.

"We share a Father if that's what you mean, his name is Snow not Stark." Sansa replied, feeling shamed to have to discuss the matter.

"You share the same blood, do you not?" Melisandre quizzed.

"Well yes but..."

"And you grew up together? Saw each other everyday at Winterfell?" She continued.

"Well yes..." Sansa frowned at Melisandre's presumptuous manner.

"Then it seems to me dear girl that you are in fact, brother and sister." Sansa quietly fumed at the red woman's disregard for formality and her personal invasion. She simply stared at her for a few seconds then continued with her meal.

"I am sorry if I offend you My Lady but I am only sharp because I value time in a way others do not. I am blunt as a butter knife only because I understand necessity and duty better than any Maester you may have known." Melisandre apologised.

"I appreciate your apology My Lady, if you will excuse me, I must take my leave." Sansa chimed respectfully as she left the table, explained her evening plans to Ser Granten and wandered out into the night.

Sansa was pacing the yard that the men had been training in just hours previously. Backwards and forwards she dashed, her pace revealing her inner turmoil. She had resolved to believe that the lady Melisandre was indeed the red woman from her dream and that she was right to distrust her. Sansa's footsteps raced along with her thoughts, only slowing when she began to calm herself. Ghost had somehow made his way outside to join her and was by her side as she walked, keeping vigil under the night's sky. Sansa thought it quite beautiful as she looked up. The soft twinkle of the stars on a clean, clear backdrop and the safeness of how they would always be there in their own little spots, shining away. Not like her life for example. Everything was changing, nothing stayed the same. She had no stable backdrop or place to shine. She had fallen from her sky the moment she had left Winterfell.

As she roused from her thoughts, Sansa noticed that Ghost had left her side. He was stood staring out at the large gated tunnel that stood between them and beyond the wall. Sansa bent to stroke him.

"What are you doing Ghost?" She whispered to him.

The Direwolf only stared. Steady and still. Sansa stared with him, what could he see that she could not? Sansa glared into the tunnel. In the darkness she could only see as far as a few feet into the entrance. Nothing.

"You miss him don't you?" Sansa broke the silence and whispered to the Direwolf. "I do too in a strange sort of way" she admitted. "He will be back soon". She said nuzzling into the animal's fur.

"Sooner than you might think." A familiar voice said, inches from her.

"Jon!" Sansa cried. Leaping to her feet, jumping up at at him and throwing her arms around around him so tight, she almost knocked him off his feet.

"So it isn't just Ghost that missed me then?" Jon asked.

Sansa looked up into his eyes. Her's filling with tears. She shook her head and fell into the comfort of his embrace once more.


	4. Chapter 4

"She terrifies me Jon." Sansa told her bastard brother as they sat on the crates in the training yard, catching up on lost time, just as Sansa had hoped they would. "The dream felt so real you know, as if it were a sign of things to come." She whispered.

"Give over Sansa. She is merely a woman much like you are. You spent too much time listening to old nan as a child, it's muddled your mind." Jon dismissed.

Sansa became withdrawn. She lowered her head and pouted slightly. If she couldn't get Jon to believe her, that there was something not right with the red woman, that she was dangerous in some way then no one would believe her. She didn't know what to do.

Jon looked at her and his eyes softened, regardless of her fanciful ideas, Sansa was the closest thing he had to a Sister and as he watched her sad face he felt the protection any Brother would feel.

"Alright I will talk to Stannis." Jon told her with a sigh. "I will find out what I can about her." Sansa sat up straight and flung her arms around him. "If I do though, you have to promise me that you will put this none sense behind you and that you will bring a smile to your face again. A lot has happened to the pair of us Sansa but we are together now. The only family each other has got. We have to stick together do you understand?" He looked at her meaningfully. Sansa nodded.

Stannis Baratheon was an aloof, blunt and unfriendly sort of character. He stared at Sansa, judging her. Ser Davos Seaworth stood by his side as he sat at the centre of the raised table, previously sat upon by The Lord commander. Jon stood below them with her. Luckily the Lady Melisandre was off somewhere with Lady Selyse and Shireen. After an extended period of quiet deliberation Stannis finally spoke.

"Lady Melisandre is a fine priestess of R'hllor, the one true God. She believes I am Azor Ahai come to free the world from the other and we have the undying trust and loyalty of one another. I will take into consideration your concerns Jon Snow but know that it is unlikely that anything will change". His tone was authoritative and his eyes were searching Jon and Sansa curiously.

"Yes your grace" Jon replied obediently. Sansa glared at Jon with a look to say 'Is that it?' No pleading of their case, no reasoning, just 'yes your grace'. She understood why he behaved as he did, after all, she had done the same in the capital for so long. She just didn't expect it from Jon. He was always one to fight for justice and the right to explain ones self.

Later in the day as Sansa walked down the cold dark paths through Castle Black, alone and filled with worry, she felt her stomach lurch and a cold sweat start to creep over her skin. Chanting. Coming from the tunnel. As in her dream, Sansa couldn't quite grasp everything that was being said but she certainly heard the name R'hllor. The reality of experiencing something she only previously knew to be a dream was unsettling to say the least.

As she approached the tunnel, Sansa heard a small noise behind her. She whirled around to see Ser Davos closing in behind her. Sansa hurried along, steering away from the tunnel and heading back to her chambers. The onion knight was getting closer. Sansa could hear his footsteps getting nearer as they thudded louder and faster in her ear. Before she knew it Sansa was running and Ser Davos was indeed in pursuit. At that moment a large, dry skinned hand snaked it's way around Sansa's face and held itself firm against her mouth. Davos stopped her in her tracks and pulled her back in close to him, he whispered in her ear.

"Don't struggle my Lady. This needn't be so difficult. I'm only here to take you to the red woman, your brother will be there waiting for you. King Stannis has control of the black now, you'd do well to do as you're told."

Sansa whimpered and wriggled for a short time but soon accepted that the man far outweighed her in strength and determination. She walked with him, he still held her dominantly. When they were nearing the end of the tunnel the chanting was louder and clearer. Sansa knew then why she couldn't make sense of it before, it was in a foreign tongue. Still she knew only 'R'hllor.

A small red and orange glow came into focus in front of her and Sansa could feel the billowing heat that took her breath away. As they grew closer, the glow became a large, flickering fire. Licking at the ceilings and almost spanning the wide tunnel. Lady Melisandre, Stannis, his wife and daughter and many other red cloaked strangers were gathered around the fire. Through the flames Sansa could she Jon, his hands and feet bound, in the grasp of a scary looking red cloaked man. Jon spotted Sansa and looked at her with sorrow and regret.

The chanting stopped instantly and all eyes fell on Sansa. Lady Melisanre approached her.

"Lady Sansa, thank you for joining us on this very special day". The red woman greeted Sansa eerily.


End file.
